<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Tenderness And Love by QueenOfNewOrleans22</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572156">Tenderness And Love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22'>QueenOfNewOrleans22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bon Jovi (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:13:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26572156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They will always set aside the time, no matter how chaotic it gets.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Tenderness And Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yells, screams, hands, touching. </p><p>A pure, animal want. </p><p>Primal, coming from deep within. </p><p> </p><p>Jon kicked his boots off, shoving them, out of sight, underneath the bed, which was ill-advised, considering that he would proceed to spend the next morning in a frantic search for said boots, but Jon was too exhausted to care about such things.</p><p>They didn't matter, anyways.</p><p>After hours of prancing around on stage, Jon really just wanted to sleep. His legs ached, and there was a distant throb in the small of his back that suggested he may have made a dire mistake during one of his jumps. </p><p>But the crowd had liked it, so what was the matter? </p><p>It was sometime after midnight, but Jon didn't care to check, only to lay down on the bed, his arms splayed. There was no reason to stay awake, but despite the plain exhaustion, Jon couldn't find it within himself to fall asleep, but he chalked it up to the remaining adrenaline of the speed and the steroids, not to mention his allergies, which were being a real pain. </p><p><em>God, </em>Jon hated those steroids, but he needed them. There was no fame without pain, after all. </p><p>Sometimes, during the darkest of nights, Jon could think of those thoughts that he never dared to let see the light. It was the only time when there was enough peace to think of the real truths behind the facades of glam and makeup. Jon worried about the dark spots beneath his eyes, and lines that had begun to appear in the most random spots on his face. Jon was worried about the way his throat ached and burned every time he swallowed, like it was filled with broken chips of glass, and how- </p><p>A knock on the door, a twist of the lock, and the door opened so fast that it barely missed banging against the wall. Jon flinched and sat up so fast that it nearly gave him whiplash, staring as the door closed with a gentle click, and Richie came sauntering in without a care in the whole goddamn world. </p><p>Jon sighed, falling backwards. "Don't scare me like that." He whispered, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse and raspy, as it always did after concerts. </p><p>Richie smiled apologetically, walking towards the bed and laying down alongside Jon, his dark hair spread out around his head. There was something strangely endearing about Richie, but Jon had never figured out what, exactly. </p><p>"Sorry." Richie said, reaching out and playing with a long strand of hair, a pastime that he seemed to enjoy despite Jon's irritation about having his hair used as a <em>toy, </em>of all things. "I just wanted to see you again." </p><p><em>'Liar.' </em>Jon thought, knowing the full truth. "You want to have sex." He said bluntly, a little amused despite the clear irritation that coursed through his veins like the very blood that kept him alive. </p><p>Richie chuckled, deep and throaty. "Yeah." He admitted sheepishly, rolling over onto his side. "But I still wanted to see you, because you're so goddamn handsome." </p><p>Jon huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, okay." He said, allowing Richie to lay over him, staring back into dark brown eyes that seemed to hold an entire universe. </p><p>Neither of them quite knew yet what to do about their blossoming relationship, whether or not it could be considered something more or something less. What had begun as something physical was now much more mental, with a definite change beginning to take place. They found themselves becoming much more intuned to each other, and maybe it was obvious, the sudden change. </p><p>But the other guys either didn't care or didn't notice. </p><p>"Did you see that girl?" Richie said conversationally as he began to pull off his jeans. "She was throwing herself at you." With the jeans off, they were promptly tossed over Richie's shoulder, the metal buckle clinking against the wood. </p><p>Jon crossed his arms. "I'd rather not talk about that girl when we're about to do the same thing that she wants to do." He said, watching despite himself as Richie undressed, pulling off his overcoat and then his jacket. </p><p>"Oh, really?" Richie said, folding his white jacket over his arm and setting it aside on a chair. "I didn't know that she had a dick that she could-" He was interrupted by Jon slapping his shoulder. </p><p>"Shut up." Jon grumbled. </p><p>Richie tossed his head back and laughed, exposing his long throat, glistening with sweat. "I love it when you're tired." He said with a mischievous little smirk, eyes alight with a fire that burned from deep within. "It means I can do whatever I want, and all you can do is smart off at me." </p><p>Jon rolled his eyes. </p><p>Richie always managed to make him smile, it was so annoying. But there was a certain fondness directed toward Richie's uncanny ability that certainly made it just as endearing as the man who possessed it. </p><p>In a weird way, it had become a strange sort of routine, them finding a peace in the night, when the stage lights had long been turned off, and they could just enjoy the pleasure of having each other without any setbacks. </p><p>"You want me to undress you?" Richie offered, motioning to the prime body beneath him. Jon sighed and began to awkwardly tug at the sleeves of his long coat, which Richie helped with obligingly. </p><p>There was something weirdly sweet with the effect, something domestic about the moment that passed slowly. Richie put the jacket on the chair, alongside his own jacket, and then they resumed the undressing, until Richie slapped at Jon's hands and forced him to stop with the helping. </p><p>"Ow." Jon muttered, watching as Richie smiled widely, and slowly reached down. "Let me take care of this." The guitarist said with a wink. There was a sensual undertone to the fact that Richie was slowly, as if ravishing in the moment, pulling the shirt up, his fingers grazing along Jon's taut stomach, making him shiver at the grazing touch. </p><p>Richie adjusted himself and leaned down, his hands on either side of the bed. "Talk to me." He said softly, trailing kisses, gentle yet somehow eager, up and down Jon's stomach. </p><p>The request was unusual, but Jon was not one to complain at such a stage. "You're a god up there, with your guitar." He said, staring up at the ceiling with nothing else to do. "Its dangerous for business, really." </p><p>Richie laughed. "Is it?" He said, crawling back up, leaning down and kissing Jon's neck, persisting despite Jon initially shying away at the tickle of stubble against his sensitive skin. </p><p>"Yes." Jon confirmed, reaching up and entangling his hands in Richie's soft hair, making sure to be gentle. "Oh, <em>fuck</em><em>-" </em>He gasped as his lover hit a certain soft spot on his neck. "You're a god in bed, too." </p><p>Soft kisses turned into grazing scrapes of teeth as Richie became more eager. "Well, thank you." He said, pulling away momentarily so that he could speak. And then- "Thank y' very much." Richie said in an imitation of Elvis that was remarkably impressive, considering that most of his accents and imitations sounded much different than what they were meant to be. </p><p>Jon curled his fingers around the back of Richie's head for leverage, and then pulled the older man down until their noses were just barely touching. "I'd rather have you." Jon whispered, before closing the distance in a searing kiss. </p><p>Richie groaned, his hips bucking as the kiss grew more intense, more passionate, like a spark that'd been turned into a flame. </p><p>The room was suddenly much more hotter. </p><p>Richie was the first to pull away, but it was less out of personal preference and more to allow them both to catch their breaths. </p><p>"Same here." Richie whispered, by before elaborating, he ducked back down and finished tugging the shirt off, which took longer than it should've because the thin fabric for caught on Jon's bracelets, and it took a minute to untangle it. "Damn it." Richie said, tossing the shirt aside before kissing Jon on his collarbone, hands dancing across Jon's chest. </p><p>Jon went to kiss Richie again, but the older man pulled away, and smiled faintly at the rather curious look on Jon's face over the denied access. "Just hold on there, cowboy." Richie said, seeking to relish in the twisted disappointment. </p><p>Richie stood up, making his way across the room until he reached the intended destination- Jon's duffel bag, which Richie riffled through with determined intent, pushing past clothing and keys, makeup, and other things before grinning and pulling out a bottle of lube. "You really wanted to hide this, didn't you?" Richie said with a small shake of his hand, looking amused as he made his way back to the bed. </p><p>Jon shrugged. "Wouldn't you?" He said, welcoming Richie back with open arms and a growing hard-on. </p><p>"For such a confident person, you have some pretty weird insecurities." Richie remarked, kissing Jon once more and allowing them both to relish in the experience before pulling away and making his way downtown. </p><p>"Doesn't matter." Jon mumbled. "Only you." </p><p>Richie smiled as his nimble fingers worked at Jon's belt, tugging it off before working at the younger man's tight pants, which were a wonder to get off. Jon aided Richie with the task but wasn't sure if his help was effective or not. </p><p>Finally, the pants joined its companions on the floor. </p><p>The following moments were of eager kisses, teeth scraping against lips, and wandering hands, daring to travel. In retrospect, perhaps they were stalling, treasuring the slowness of the night, not rushing because that's what they always did on stage. </p><p>But they weren't on a stage. </p><p>They were in bed, and there was nothing to do, nowhere to be. No worries could follow them, and nobody could bother them in their own private paradise, where only <em>them </em>remained. </p><p>Richie was the only thing that mattered in their world, and his smile was a distant light at the end of a tunnel. Jon could only hope that his own cynicism and harshness wouldn't ruin that, and the mere thought made his heart ache. "Richie?" Jon whispered, unable to achieve eye contact. </p><p>"Yep?" Richie said, barely looking up. </p><p>"I love you, so much. I know that I don't say it often, but I love you, more than anything." Jon said, and Richie smiled, reaching up to lightly trace his fingers alongside Jon's cheek. </p><p>"I know, baby. I love you, too, more than you'll ever know. And, maybe, one day, you'll believe me." Richie said, and those words were so very sweet, despite the harsh words that cut deep at the back of Jon's head, saying otherwise. </p><p>Richie was talented with many things- guitar, singing, songwriting, and he certainly wasn't lacking when it came to sex. Jon closed his eyes right and tossed his head back, a groan spilling forth from his lips undaunted. </p><p>Despite their fast pace, there was a soft tenderness about the situation, a care that Richie took not to hurt Jon, like he was precious piece of cracked glass, about the way that, when they were done, Richie gently kissed Jon's cheek and dragged his hand through blondish-brown hair, perpetually loving. </p><p><em>'I don't deserve this.' </em>Jon thought, and he wiped at his eyes, watching as the tears came away tinted with black from his eyeliner. He hated crying, but he especially loathed crying in front of people. </p><p>Richie only frowned, concerned, and kissed away the tears, thumbs rising up to wipe at Jon's eyes. "Stop thinking about that. You deserve everything, anything." </p><p>
  <em>Lies </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lies</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lies</em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Lies </em> </strong>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>LIES</em> </b>
</p><p>Jon closed his eyes, willing his overactive mind to shut up. </p><p>"You're beautiful." Richie said, tracing absent circles onto skin. </p><p>Jon shook his head. "Only when I'm with you." He said, kissing Richie once more before he lay down properly and fully. Showering could wait because Jon would be damned if he got up now. There was still a fierce ache in Jon's back that was loudly voicing its complaints, but Richie never failed to make things better. </p><p>Richie lay down, drawing the blankets up towards their chests, curled up close behind Jon, arms wrapped around the slender body he'd grown to know like the back of his hand. "No, Always." He whispered. </p><p>'<em>I'll prove it to you, no matter what it takes.' </em>Richie thought before he let the sound of Jon's stuttered breathing lull him to sleep. </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>